


Sleep is Important, so Jot that Down

by GriffinRose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Exhaustion, Fainting, Gen, Hurt Peter, Peter Parker Whump, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump, Worried Tony Stark, mild whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 20:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19837843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GriffinRose/pseuds/GriffinRose
Summary: You can only last so long without decent sleep. Peter finds his limit the hard way, in Tony's lab. Because of course if he's going to pass out, it's going to be in front of Tony freaking Stark.





	Sleep is Important, so Jot that Down

Any time spent in the lab was time well spent. Tony felt more at ease when surrounded by humming machines, screwdrivers, and scrap metal. He’d spend every moment in his lab if he could, but Friday or Pepper usually dragged him away for one reason or another after a while. Time didn’t exist while he was there, and days could easily blur together if he wasn’t careful.

So when Peter showed up, sheepish, and holding out his spider suit with one hand and a poorly bunched up parachute with the other, Tony stared at him for a solid minute trying to figure out what day it was. The kid usually came over on Thursdays, right? He’d been pretty sure it was Sunday though.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I just need to refill my web shooters and fix the parachute, and then I’ll be gone.”

“Is it Thursday?” Tony finally asked.

“No, it’s Sunday. But you said any time I use the parachute...” Peter trailed off. He rocked side to side on his feet, nerves getting the better of him like they always did in Tony’s presence.

God, what did he have to do to get it through this kid’s skull that he didn’t have to be on ceremony in front of Tony all the time?

At least he’d come when he needed the parachute fixed. That was a step in a good direction for him. “Right. Bring it in. We’ll get it fixed up. And what’s wrong with your web shooters?”

“Oh, nothing,” Peter said, following Tony like a little duckling to his designated corner of the lab. “I could do it at home, but I was coming anyway, so...I...came?”

“Well while I reattach your life saving parachute, take a look at this.” Tony pulled up a holo screen and slid it over to Peter. “Think I figured out that bug we couldn’t get around the other day.”

“Really? What did you do?”

They fell into shop talk easily. Well, Tony did. Peter kept tripping over his words and losing his train of thought, but he kept up with Tony. Tony reattached the parachute, and Peter made a fresh batch of web fluid. And together, they verbally worked their way through the final design plans of a stand in chef, a kitchen appliance that could mix ingredients and cook them to perfection, as long as a recipe was uploaded. The idea was born out of a desperate need to actually feed this kid, whether he knew it or not. Tony didn’t like that he looked thinner almost every time he saw him.

Peter kept blaming his fast metabolism. He just couldn’t keep up with how much he needed to eat, and yeah, sometimes his aunt’s creations were less than appetizing. So, if they made something that could do every step of the cooking process, they might actually get edible meals. But there was a lot to consider with this, and it was probably going to take several prototypes. It was a challenge. Tony lived for challenges.

Easy ones like this, anyway.

Alien invasions and politics were not challenges he enjoyed.

“Hey, go grab the box under counter one,” Tony said. He slid a few diagrams around on the holo screen. “I want to see if something in there will work for this.”

“Mkay.” Peter slipped off his stool, took a moment to find his balance, and walked across the lab.

Might be time to send the kid home soon. He looked like he needed a nap.

Tony enlarged a section of code.

Peter grunted on the other side of the lab. “Heavy.”

Before Tony could even retort, there was a loud crash. “Hey, gentle with that stuff!” He whipped around.

He couldn’t see Peter from this angle. He couldn’t hear him, either. No frantic apologies, no scrambling to pick everything up. Fear grabbed Tony’s stomach and squeezed.

“Boss, Mr. Parker appears to have collapsed.”

Tony was across the room in four strides. Peter lay sprawled on his side, the box tipped over and abandoned projects spilling out. “What happened, Friday?” His knees hit the floor and he shook Peter’s shoulder. “Did he hit his head? Is he injured?”

Peter had a habit of hiding injuries. And he had used the parachute recently. Maybe Tony should have asked why.

“Mr. Parker has no injuries that I can discern,” Friday answered.

“Then why is he unconscious?” Tony demanded. He shook Peter a little harder. “Come on, kid. Wake up.”

Peter’s face scrunched together, and then slowly, millimeter by millimeter, his eyes opened.

“Oh thank christ. You can’t do that to me, Kid, you know I can’t handle it.” He helped Peter sit up.

Peter’s eyes were glazed over, like he wasn’t really seeing what was right in front of him. Tony checked him for a fever, but Peter didn’t have one.

Peter batted his hand away. “M’fine.”

“Yeah, no one’s who is ‘fine’ passes out in my lab,” Tony said. “Come on, let’s get you checked over in medical.” He hauled Peter to his feet and wrapped Peter’s arm around his shoulders. Peter’s coordination apparently stayed on the floor, because he couldn’t put one foot in front of the other. He kept trying to apologize, but he slurred so badly it didn’t even sound like words coming out of his mouth.

But as long as he was attempting to talk, he wasn’t passing out, so Tony let him have at it.

He shuffled Peter into the elevator, and Friday directed them up to medical. Dr. Helen Cho had already been informed of the situation and was on her way, so while they waited for her, Tony set Peter up in a room, sipping water slowly from a paper cup. Whatever was wrong, water was good, right? Water was never bad for a person.

Peter still tried to kick up a fuss, but he had no energy behind his words.

Tony paced the entire twenty minutes it took Dr. Cho to reach them, and when she walked in she was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and flip –flops that were definitely against regulation. He raised a brow.

“I was at a picnic,” was the only explanation she gave. She shooed him to a corner and started examining Peter. “What’s going on, huh? Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

“Jus’tired.”

“He’s been slurring pretty badly,” Tony added.

“Tired, huh? How much sleep have you gotten this last week?”

“Uh...”

Tony pulled out his phone and opened up Karen’s Log of her active time in the suit. According to the AI he’d been out of the suit by ten thirty every night last week, some nights even by nine. Except for last night, when he’d been in the suit until after midnight. Probably part of the parachute related incident, if Tony had to guess.

“Have you at least gotten four hours every night?” Cho asked.

“At once?” Peter asked.

Tony looked up from his phone, and even Cho paused. “Oh, kid,” Tony muttered. Sleep deprivation. That was what this was.

“Okay, this is something we can fix,” Cho said. “Lie back, please.” She pushed his shoulder and he fell back on the pillows.

He put up as much of a fight as he could. “No, don’t wanna sleep…nightmares…”

Tony’s heart broke a little more. He never should have dragged this kid into this life. He was too young. Sixteen and having nightmares so bad he’d run himself into the ground to avoid them. This was going to haunt Tony for a long, long time.

Cho smiled and pat his head. “Don’t worry. We’ve got some sedatives here that will keep those nightmares away. Would you like that? Some nice, dreamless sleep?”

A dopey grin spread on Peter’s face.

There were sedatives stashed under the bedside cabinet. Usually they were needed in the middle of a crisis against much stronger, less willing super hero patients, and it was easier to have a stock of them on hand than try and run out of the room to find one.

Cho set up a needle, cleaned the inside of Peter’s forearm, and stuck him with the good stuff. He was already falling asleep again, and in practically no time at all he was out like a light. Cho cleaned up her materials, jotted down a few notes on the whiteboard on the wall, and then motioned to Tony to follow her out of the room. She shut the door behind them.

Her glare was almost as intimidating as Pepper’s.

“Thank you, Helen, I really appreciate you coming out here on a Sunday just to put the kid to bed.” Gratitude was a good way to start, right? That would mitigate some of the yelling sure to come his way.

“You’ll be paying for it so I don’t mind,” Cho stated. “But if I have to come here and sedate that poor sweet kid again because he can’t sleep because he’s having nightmares, you’re going to have some lawsuits on your hands.”

He winced. “I’d deserve them. I didn’t know about the nightmares, I swear. I’ll fix this.”

“You had better, Tony Stark.” She shook her head and took a few deep breaths. “Do you know the last time he ate?”

“Probably breakfast?” He assumed the kid ate breakfast before coming here.

Cho sighed and rubbed her temples. “I’m going to put him on an IV drip. He can’t afford to miss any meals right now, especially with his metabolism.”

“I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what time is it?” Tony asked.

“Almost three o’clock.”

Yeah. He kind of regretted asking. That meant Peter missed lunch, and he was definitely going to miss dinner tonight. And Cho was right. That kid couldn’t miss any meals. He was skinny enough as it was.

“I’m going to set that IV up. You go get yourself your own lunch before I have to put one in you, too.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m going. I’ve got to call the kid’s aunt anyway.” That was not a conversation he wanted to have. It sucked being the grown up sometimes.

Cho shooed him off and went back into the room.

Tony made his way back to the elevator and up to his living quarters, planning his next few moves. Call aunt hottie, look into therapists, coddle/interrogate the kid when he woke up…assuming aunt hottie didn’t come murder him, that is. He wouldn’t put it past her.

As it turned out, he worried for nothing.

“He passed out?” she repeated.

“Yeah. Looks like simple exhaustion. I’ve got a doctor looking after him.” He rotated his tuna sandwich in his hand.

May only sighed. “I didn’t think he was that bad,” she whispered. “I knew he wasn’t sleeping right, but he wouldn’t tell me what was bothering him. I was hoping he’d say something to you today.”

Ah, so that was why Peter had come today. He’d thought it was odd Peter had come to have his parachute fixed so quickly.

“I might have distracted him with a project,” Tony admitted. “I still should have noticed something. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Peter’s…he bottles things up.”

That sounded familiar. As long as the kid wasn’t looking at the bottom of a bottle, he’d probably bounce back from this. “Once he’s up we’ll figure out what’s going on. I’ll set him up with a therapist, I know a couple he can trust.”

That didn’t mean it would work. That didn’t mean Peter would be willing to talk.

“I appreciate it, Tony. I know I get on your case a lot, but you do have Peter’s best interests at heart, and I’m so grateful you’re in his life.”

His throat closed. He put his tuna sandwich down. He did not sign up for emotions with this call. He cleared his throat. “That’s high praise, coming from you.”

“Don’t push it,” May chided.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They figured out the rest of the details, when May should come over, if she should bring Peter some clothes, if they were pulling him from school for a few days, all that good stuff. Then Tony finished his sandwich, grabbed his Stark pad, and set up camp in the kid’s room.

Peter hadn’t moved a muscle since first falling asleep, and he didn’t stir at Tony’s silent entrance. Tony had even taken his shoes off to make sure of it, slipping into the room in his socks.

Tony looked over Peter, shaking his head and laughing to himself. This kid was going to be the death of him, one day, with all the worry he caused him. He could practically feel his hair turning gray.

And yet, he wouldn’t change anything. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm debating if I want to write this from Peter's POV as well. Let me know if you'd be interested in his side of the story!


End file.
